X Marks the Day
by William Easley
Summary: It's almost here - coming up on August 31, 2017! The Mystery Twin's eighteenth birthday! The most special day in Dipper's and Wendy's lives! And coming along for the celebration is Bill Cipher - er, Billy Sheaffer. Should be interesting.
1. Chapter 1

_I do not own the show GRAVITY FALLS or any of the characters; both are the property of the Walt Disney Company and of Alex Hirsch. I make no money from these stories but write just for fun and in the hope that other fans enjoy reading them. I will ask, please, do not copy my stories elsewhere on the Internet. I work hard on these, and they mean a lot to me. Thank you._

* * *

**X Marks the Day**

**(August 26-31, 2017**

* * *

**1: In the Realm of Dreams**

Billy Sheaffer's sisters teased him about his eagerness to travel back to his magic place. Fair enough, yes, he was as excited as he would have been the day before Christmas, OK?

Mr. and Mrs. Pines had told Billy their travel plans. For weeks now, on the family calendar in the kitchen, Sunday, August 27, bore a great big red X that Billy had put there with a permanent marker. And then for days it was, "Please, Mom, can I? Dad, can I? Please?"

Billy had visited Gravity Falls a few times, and every time he'd come back with excited tales about strange and, yes, even magical places, people, and things. His sisters and parents marveled at his imagination and liked the way his visits gave him a high that lasted for a month or more.

They were also glad that Billy finally had close friends. Oh, the twin girls were friendly enough with Dipper and Mabel, who lived down the street, and the Sheaffers liked the Pines family just fine—but Billy had really bonded with the Pines twins.

And—fortunately, his sisters were good-natured and not at all mean—to tell the truth, he felt a bit of a crush on Mabel, as anyone could tell. She had turned him down in a friendly way, and now he had a kind of a girlfriend, a girl his own age named China (though she wasn't Chinese) who liked the same kind of things he did and who didn't mind at all that he had one prosthetic eye. She even thought that was kind of cool.

So now his attitude toward Mabel had become more buddy-buddy and less romantic. She was so upbeat and cheerful that it made staying friends with her easy.

Anyway, Dipper had invited Billy to come up to Gravity Falls with Mr. and Mrs. Pines for the double occasion of the twins' eighteenth birthday and, coincidentally, Billy's twelfth. Mr. and Mrs. Sheaffer proved a bit reluctant and took some persuading—but they finally agreed that since this was a big moment for Dipper especially, Billy could celebrate his real birthday up in Gravity Falls with his friends, and the Saturday after that, September 2, he'd have a birthday party back home in Piedmont with his family.

So the deal was that on Sunday, he would ride up to Gravity Falls with Mr. and Mrs. Pines. Dipper had told him he was welcome to take the spare bed up in the attic of the Mystery Shack—which had become one of Billy's favorite places in the world—and that he could go to the wedding on Thursday. Soos was actually closing down the Shack for the occasion, which made it really special.

Anyway, that would be on August 31. That same evening, Dipper and Wendy would leave for their honeymoon, and the Pines parents would drive back to Piedmont with Billy. Man, though, first he'd have four full days in Gravity Falls! He was so geeked about that!

Though, of course, there was the other thing, the one that still worried and, to be honest, scared him.

The Bill Cipher thing.

* * *

Maybe for those reasons, on Saturday night Billy fell asleep there in his own bed in Piedmont, California, and dreamed about the Mystery Shack.

It was one of those dreams where real places seemed unreal. His dad had told him once that sometimes, in his dreams, he wandered through the house and kept finding doors that opened into rooms he didn't remember and that really didn't exist. Yeah. Little like his dad's architecture dreams.

Anyway, in the dream the Mystery Shack loomed bigger than in real life. It was a clear night, with a full moon in the eastern sky. Yellow light shone in the Shack windows. Everything was incredibly still and quiet.

Somehow as Billy walked up to the gift-shop door, he realized that no one was home. He hesitated at the door, wondering whether he should even knock—and then he heard laughter from somewhere around back.

He went around by way of the museum porch. There the "new wing"—that's what they called it—led off to the left from the main part of the Shack. The wing was fairly long, with a nursery, a room for Abuelita, a spare room, and a playroom for both kids, as well as its own bathroom. Billy walked all the way around it and saw an enormous oak tree that seemed to have sprung up from nothing since his last visit. Anyway, he didn't remember the big oak, or the swings hanging on ropes from a high, thick branch or—

The two kids who were laughing as they swung in great looping arcs. At one instant, they would be so far in the air behind the branch that the ropes looked parallel to the ground, and then with a fast swoop, they'd go that far forward, from Billy's perspective with their heels above the moon, until the two practically lay on their backs twenty feet above the ground, laughing their heads off.

"Dipper?" Billy asked, because the guy's laughter sounded like his friend's.

Whoa! The two swings froze in mid-air, both kids, guy and girl, turned, looking back and down at him. "Hi!" the boy said.

He didn't know the girl, red-haired and just about his own age. And the guy—looked like Dipper, but different, too. And younger, again about Billy's age.

"Just a sec!" the girl called. The two of them stepped out of their swings—fifteen feet up or more!—and walked casually down the air as if they were coming down a big set of spongy, soft stairs. The two swings, now empty, slowly came down until the ropes were vertical and the seats still.

"Who did you think I was?" asked the boy.

"Uh, Dipper. Dipper Pines? He works in the Shack?"

"Well, close," the kid said. "I'm Dippy, and I live in there. This is my buddy, Wendy."

"Hey!" the girl said, and she did sound like—and now that Billy looked at her, dressed like—Wendy Corduroy. But she was so young! "What's your name?" she asked.

"Um, I'm Billy Sheaffer. I'm from, uh, Piedmont, California."

"Bet you're dreaming!" Dippy said. "Everybody who visits us is dreaming."

"Am I?" Billy asked, surprised.

Wendy looked at Dippy. "Hey," she said quietly. "Do you think—" She held up her hands and did something strange. She touched thumb-tip to thumb-tip, index finger to index finger, and looked through the triangle she'd formed at Dippy.

As though she'd asked a real question, Dippy said, "Um, nope. Billy's not the right shape."

"Anyways," the girl, the young Wendy, said, "I'll bet he'd like a turn in the swing!"

"Hop on, Billy!" Dipper said. "We'll give you a push."

He somehow was in the swing, without remembering even walking over to it. And Wendy yelled, "Hang on!" She shoved him—

And, wow! The swing swooped him way, way up. The moon seemed to sink as he rose, and then just for a moment he felt as if he were hanging there—and then whoosh! He felt himself drop down, down, and then go up the other way, backward, and there below, grinning up at him, stood Dippy and Wendy. Dippy yelled, "You can't fall!"

He felt as if that were true. Somehow the swing held and protected him. He felt the speed and the swoop in his chest. _This is just like flying!_

Wendy got into the other swing, waited, and Dippy gave her a push at the right moment, and there she was, over to Billy's right, keeping pace with him. She gurgled with laughter, and that made Billy laugh, too.

And then somehow, he was waving goodbye. He left them behind and walked down the Mystery Trail.

Through the woods and then to the place where once he had come so close to shaking hands with that strange statue.

It was gone. A metal cage replace it. Inside it, and spilling out through the bars, a yellow light glowed.

"Is that you?" Billy asked.

"He's almost not there," said a whispery voice.

Billy looked around. No one.

"Up here."

Ah, someone—no, a dragon—no, a kind of lizard-like ghosty thing floating up above, just under the tree canopy. "Who are you?"

"You'll eventually remember this and know me. Bill Cipher is almost not here. He's almost entirely inside you now."

"I can't find him inside me."

"That will come. It will take years. One day you will wake up and think, 'Why, I'm me, and I'm Bill Cipher!' And then you will remember this and know who I am. I'm here to tell you not to be afraid. Nothing much will feel different. And you have friends."

"It's on my birthday, isn't it?"'

"Early in the morning. There is just the smallest, tiniest part of Bill still in Dipper's heart. It will leave him. It will be part of you, but you won't even feel that. One thing that will result—you and Dipper will always be friends. Any time that he needs help, you will be there for him. And when you need help—"

"I can call him."

"Wake up!"

"What?"

Someone was shaking his shoulder. "Come on, champ! Time to get ready."

Oh. His dad. "What time is it?" he asked.

"Past seven."

"Why is the moon out?"

His dad sat on the edge of the bed. "I think maybe you were dreaming, Billy! Remember what today is? You've got to get up, shower, have breakfast, and get ready for—"

"The trip!" Billy said. "Yeah, I was dreaming about Gravity Falls! The shack looked real funny, and I saw Dipper and Wendy, but they were both my age, and we were swinging on this old tree, and it felt like flying—oh, gosh, I have to get ready!"

He got dressed in comfortable clothes, a yellow tee shirt and black shorts, ate a big sausage-and-pancake breakfast, and he and his mom checked his suitcase one last time to make sure he had packed enough socks and underwear and all.

Mr. and Mrs. Pines parked their RAV4 at the curb, came in and had a cup of coffee with Mr. and Mrs. Sheaffer, and then Mr. Pines asked, "Ready for the long drive?"

"Yeah!" Billy said.

Laughing, Mr. Pines carried his suitcase out and stowed it. Then Billy got into the back seat of the minivan, fastened his seatbelt, and sat back.

"It's going to be strange seeing Dipper and Wendy get married, isn't it?" asked Mrs. Pines.

"A little, I guess," Billy said. "But, you know, they're old enough."

"They keep telling us that!" Mr. Pines said good-naturedly. "OK, let's see—it's eight in the morning. By about twelve-thirty or one, we'll stop for lunch in the town of Yreka. Know the story of how it got its name?"

Billy didn't, so Mr. Pines told it—in a way that made Billy laugh a lot. It began with some people in a nameless mining camp opening a bakery shop and painting the word BAKERY on a canvas sign, hanging it backwards so the paint sort of leaked through . . . .

". . . so," Mr. Pines said, "this old-time prospector showed up in town and saw the sign and said, 'That-there is a heck of a bad name fer this-here town. Yrekab? How in th' tarnation kin a feller pronounce that? Why don't y'all take and cut off that cussed B from th' end?'"

And so on. The story probably didn't have a lot of truth in it, but the way Ales Pines told it was very entertaining.

Mrs. Pines, currently in the passenger seat, kept glancing back at him and smiling. Once, in a strange kind of happy-sad voice, she said, "This really takes me back."

Mysteriously, Mr. Pines interrupted his tale to sort of sing just one cheerful word to his wife:

"Grandchildren!"


	2. Chapter 2

**X Marks the Day**

**(August 27, 2017**

* * *

**2: Anticipations**

"Groceries," Dipper said.

Wendy laughed. They were out on the float, very early on Sunday morning. Almost no other fishermen or swimmers were at the lake at that time, so they'd swum out and now were just lazing and sunning. "Dude, chill!"

"But we'll need groceries for the first few days," Dipper insisted. "Maybe we should just buy some and pack them when we leave for the honeymoon—"

"Come on, man!" Wendy said. "I'm sure there are supermarkets somewhere around the college!"

"Well, there's a J&L grocery about three or four miles from the house, and a—"

"There you go," Wendy told him. "We'll take, like, a picnic basket with stuff for dinner and maybe something for breakfast, and then the next morning we can go explore and find a supermarket."

"Well . . . ."

"You got a grocery list already," Wendy accused, but in a teasing tone.

"I can't help it," Dipper said. "It's just—you know, I like to plan ahead."

"Yup. Oh, Dipper, show me that list again. You're so organized!" She pretended to swoon.

"OK," Dipper said with a chuckle. "I should never have told you about that romance fantasy."

She took his hand. _Wouldn't have helped if you hadn't. When our telepathy kicks in, I can see all that kind of stuff if I concentrate. That one about me punching you in the stomach and running off to marry Robbie just 'cause he could play the guitar—you should've known better, man!_

—_Give me a break. I was twelve!_

_Yeah, and Robbie was crazy full of himself back then. God's gift to girls! As if. But it worked out just right._

—_Still, I think that tomorrow we should go over to the house and make sure everything is tidy and ready—you know, make sure the fridge is on, set the thermostat so it won't be too hot when we get there—_

_Mm, make up the bed._

—_Yeah, make up—oh._

_Yeah, 'cause after the craziness of the wedding and the long drive over, we're gonna want to, you know—take a nap._

—_Oh._

_You're so cute when you get all self-conscious and embarrassed!_

For a few minutes they nuzzled and kissed, and then a family of five showed up on the beach, and the three early-teen and pre-teen kids swam out to the float with a lot of splashing, so Dipper and Wendy dived off and swam ashore. As they sloshed out, Wendy said, 'You're swimming a lot better than when you were a lifeguard, Dip!"

"I'm just glad I didn't have to jump in to save someone," Dipper said.

"Well, I never had to do that, either," Wendy told him. "I don't think anybody ever came close to drowning in the Gravity Falls municipal pool."

"Yeah, everybody's too afraid of Poolcheck to risk drowning," Dipper said.

"That's the truth!"

They had driven out in Dipper's car. Still in their wet swimsuits, they climbed in—Dipper had placed four thick, folded towels on the seat—and drove back to the shack.

Teek and Mabel were out on the lawn playing with Tripper, who was chasing a tennis-ball sized play ball. He didn't like real tennis balls because of the fuzzy cover, so this one was a red nubbled rubber ball. Tripper would wait for Teek or Mabel to throw, evidently judging probable direction and distance from the thrower's arm movements, and then dash out just as the toss began. About seventy per cent of the time, he would spin, look up, and leap into the air, snatching the ball before it had a chance to hit and bounce. When he pulled this off, he would prance around for a minute, head high, displaying the ball clenched in his teeth—Look what I just did!—and then would return it for another throw.

"You guys!" Mabel yelled. "Have you no decency?"

Wendy was wearing a modest one-piece swimsuit, plus flip-flops, and Dipper's trunks couldn't be called Speedos, and he had also donned a tee shirt and beach slides for the ride back from the lake. Plus, they'd draped towels over their shoulders as they got out of the Land Runner. OK, they weren't dressed for a formal dinner, but they were decent.

Wendy wrinkled her nose at Mabel. "Didn't want to change in the car," she said. "The restrooms at the lake are closed 'cause they're being repainted."

"Hey, Dip," Mabel said. "Mom called. They're on the way up with Billy. They were about to stop for lunch. They should be here sometime after dinner tonight."

"Thanks," Dipper said. Tripper trotted up to him with the ball, Dipper took it and tossed one high and steep, and the dog did a little dance before making a spectacular leap to catch it in mid-air.

"Way to go, Tripper!" Wendy said admiringly.

Tripper did a doggy bow, front legs stretched out, chest on the ground, butt and wagging tail up in the air. Then he chose Teek as the next pitcher, and Dipper and Wendy went inside to get dressed.

Which they did decently and separately. They met in the dining room, where they prepared sandwiches, and Wendy said, "Dude, seriously, if you want to, go ahead and make a shopping list. You know the kind of foods we both like to eat. Just not a lot of stuff that would cause us to have to do a lot of clean-up for our first couple of meals, OK? Because we'll be otherwise occupied."

"I was thinking," Dipper said. "Want to take a trip to the beach just to check it out? I don't mean on the first or second day of the honeymoon, but maybe on the third?"

"Maybe," Wendy said with an impish grin. "Let's wait and see if we get bored, just hanging around in the house with nobody there but us and nothing to do except just to be happy."

"Deal," Dipper said.

The door opened and Mabel came in. She held the door for Tripper, who trotted in panting happily. "Food!" Mabel said.

"Make your own sandwiches," Dipper told her.

"No, me and Teek are gonna drive up to Morris and eat lunch there, and then we're gonna drive to the farm to visit with Widdles, Waddles, and Gompers. I called Aunt Sallie, and she won't be home, but she said to enjoy ourselves."

"Have a good drive," Wendy said.

"Say hi to the pigs for me," Dipper added.

"Sure thing. We'll be back around four or five. I'll call you if I hear from Mom and Dad again."

"Thanks."

The two took off in Teek's car.

"I'll bet after college starts, Mabel will have to drive back to the Valley every weekend to visit her pigs," Dipper said.

"Yeah, and to drill her chicken corps," Wendy said. "Aunt Sallie says she's never seen anybody that can organize a flock of—Dip, what's wrong?"

Dipper had gasped and put his hand up to his chest. "Ugh! Wait." He drank some water. "Guess I swallowed that last bite too hard, somehow. Wait a second." He took some deep breaths. "Yeah, I think it was just a stuck piece of food. I feel OK now."

"Sure it wasn't your heart or something?" Wendy asked. She put her hand on his forehead, as if checking for fever, and Dipper sensed her dropping into his mind. _OK, you're not hurting anymore, that's good. We ought to get you to the doctor, though, just in case._

—_I think I'm all right, but if you really want me to—oh, wait. I got it._

_Bill Cipher?_

—_Could be. Those molecules may be, I don't know, loosening up._

_I can't find him in here. When's the last time you sensed him?_

—_It's been a long time. You know, on Thursday morning, early, around five—_

_Yeah. You and Billy need to be in the same room, so when Bill moves out of you and into him it'll be easier. I'll be there for you._

—_Thanks. That will help a lot._

Dipper felt a touch on his knee. Tripper, on his hind legs, had reached out with a front paw to get his attention. He ruffled the dog's pointed ears. "You gonna come and stand by too, buddy?"

Tripper tilted his head in that doggy way and yipped once. In his code, that meant "Yes."

Wendy reached down to pat him. "Do you know what's goin' on with Bill Cipher and Dipper?"

A thoughtful pause, and then Tripper yipped twice for "No."

"I think it'll be OK if you're there," Dipper said. "Billy likes you a lot. You remember Billy Sheaffer, Trip?"

_Yip._

"Good."

"Tripper," Wendy said, "check Dipper out. Is he sick?"

Tripper scrambled up into Dipper's lap and stuck his twitching nose up.

"What are you doing?" Dipper asked, laughing.

Tripper, looking serious, sniffed his breath, then his neck and upper chest. He licked Dipper's cheek. Then he hopped down, turned around, and looked up at Wendy.

"Is he sick?" Wendy asked.

_Yip, yip_. And happy tail wagging.

"There you go, Dip," Wendy said. "You're not sick. Too bad Tripper isn't a retriever. Then we could say that the lab tests were good."

"Agh," Dipper said. "I wouldn't even use that pun in one of my books, and they're for twelve-year-olds!"

"No good writer would use it," Wendy said, petting Tripper, who accepted a small fragment of bacon as his fee for medical consultation.

After lunch they went shopping, at the Mercantile, Gravity Falls' excuse for a big-box store. They rambled through the shelves in the bed-and-bath section with Dipper more and more surprised. "Sheets are expensive!"

"Well, yeah, these are," Wendy said. "Percale, four hundred thread count—"

"I don't know what that even means."

Wendy laughed. "Means the sheets are fairly thick and durable, so they'll last. These have deep pockets, so the bottom sheet won't slip loose from the mattress. And they're soft—feel. Be nice on the bed. We'll need two sets, yeah, it's kinda an investment! This is a good brand, too, and these actually are on sale, ten per cent off."

"If you like them, let's get them," Dipper said. "I haven't spent very much of my checking account. Most of the money, book and TV and all, is in the savings, but I can transfer some over if we need it."

"OK, let's get two sets of these. What colors?"

"Um, white?"

"No, you get two differenc colors, and that way you know the difference. When one set's dirty, you don't want to change it for exactly the same color, because—"

"I'll take your word for it," Dipper said. "How about, um, the pale green and the pale blue?"

"Got 'em." Wendy took down the packaged bundles, fitted bottom sheet, flat top, pillowcases. "We'll have to get some big pillows, too, I guess. But let's start out with our plain old pillows. That'll make the bed seem more homey. Then later we can shop for some king-sized pillows."

"There are king-sied pillows?"

"Oh, yeah, to fit a big bed."

They carried the two packages of sheets to the check-out counter. Dipper said, "These are heavy!"

"That's why they'll last a good long time."

Dipper used his check card to pay—a total of $360.00 for the two sets—and then he and Wendy carried their purchase out to his car. "You know, Dip," Wendy said as they put the packages into the back seat of his car, "if we drive over tomorrow, we could take separate cars and leave one in the garage."

"Good idea," Dipper said. "That'll make it unnecessary for Grunkle Stan and Mabel to drive over after the wedding."

They got back to the Shack, lazed around until the Ramirez family returned from Mass and lunch out, and then they played with Harmony and Little Soos out in the yard. "What have you guys been doing?" Soos asked.

"Went shopping for sheets," Wendy told him. "'Cause on Thursday night, you know, gonna need them."

"Ooh-ooh!" said Abuelita, giving them a naughty, knowing grandmotherly smile. "Before you know, there will be a little child to play with our _bebés_!"

"In time," Wendy said.

Dipper's phone chimed, and he answered it. "Hi, Mom !"

"Dipper? What's wrong?"

"Uh—nothing," Dipper said. "Why?"

"Your voice just sounds so high. Are you sure you're all right?"

"I'm fine," Dipper said. "Really."

"Well, if you're sure—we've decided to stop for dinner, so don't look for us until about eight tonight, all right? We didn't want you to worry."

"Thanks, Mom. Is Billy doing OK?"

"He's fine, anxious to see you both. Is Mabel there?"

"Gone to visit her pigs. She should be back in half an hour or a little more. I'll have her call."

"No, that's not necessary. Are you and Wendy alone?"

Dipper laughed. "No, Mom. Soos and Melody and Abuelita and their kids are here with us. Want to speak to them?"

"Why should—"

"Here, Soos, say hi to Mom," Dipper said, handing his phone over.

Soos grinned his beaver-toothed smile. "Hiya, Mrs. Pines, dude! We're looking forward to your visit. We're taking real good care of Dipper and Mabel, don't worry! Nice to talk to you!"

Dipper took the phone back and said goodbye to his slightly flustered mother.

Wendy asked, "What's up with all that?"

"Um, I sounded a little funny after Abuelita's joke about us having a baby. She thought you and I were all alone and probably—you know."

"Oh," Wendy said, blushing.

"Ooh-ooh!" Abuelita teased.


	3. Chapter 3

**X Marks the Day**

**(August 27, 2017)**

* * *

**3\. Quiet Family Evening**

When Mabel learned of Wendy and Dipper's plan to drive to their college house, she tried to invite herself along, but Dipper gently persuaded her not to. "Mom and Dad are going to be here," he pointed out. "Mom will take it hard enough that I won't be around—you need to be here for her and Dad. Besides, Billy's going to be here, too, and you don't want to bail on him."

Well, everybody could pile into cars and—

"Mabes," Wendy said gently, "your mom and dad will be coming off a twelve or thirteen-hour trip up from Piedmont. It's eight or nine hours round-trip to the college house. Really, let me and Dip get this. We're not gonna spend any real time in the house—maybe have a meal there—and then we'll come right back."

"Look," Dipper said, "if you want us to, we'll make up the bed in your room, too. OK?"

"Well . . . yeah, I guess," Mabel said. "But when you guys go on your honeymoon—"

"Stay-homey-moon, more like it," Wendy said. "We won't have a chance for a real getaway until Christmas break."

"Whatever," Mabel said, "You remember I'll be showing up there on Saturday to get settled in. But I'll give you your privacy until then."

"After that," Dipper said, "all bets are off?"

"Well, no, but—our bedrooms are on opposite ends of the house, so what you guys do behind closed doors is your business."

"Sounds like a deal to me," Wendy said.

They were just kicking back in the cool of the evening—cool being relative, but it was at least a little under eighty degrees—out on the family porch. Mabel sighed. "It's gonna seem so hard, saying goodbye to Teek this coming Thursday. He's off to Georgia until at least Thanksgiving."

"You driving him over to the airport?" Dipper asked.

"No, his mom and dad are, but they said I could ride along and say goodbye before he gets on the plane. Huh. Some goodbye. Double chaperoned!"

"Teek will probably find a way for you to have a few private moments with him," Wendy said.

"Yeah. So—you guys taking all your stuff over to the house?"

"Tomorrow, you mean?" Dipper asked. "We're taking clothes and some decorations and stuff like that. Grunkle Stan says he'll hire a moving company for things like books and a few odds and ends of furniture. It'll show up on Saturday, along with you."

"I'm bringing everything with me," Mabel said. "Including Tripper! I hope he won't get homesick for the Shack."

"Never," Dipper said. "As long as you're there."

"Yeah. What do you think of putting in a doggy door so he can get out in the yard while we're away during classes?"

"Ask Stan," Dipper said. "He and Ford are our landlords."

For a few moments they just sat and listened to crickets and katydids and a few late woodpeckers. Then, out of nowhere, Mabel said, "You guys taking care so you won't have a baby by next summer?"

"Mabel!" Wendy said. "Come on, girl. Yeah, I've had that for more than a week!"

"But I thought you guys weren't—"

"Don't go there," Dipper warned.

Wendy nudged him. "We're not. Yet. But, you know, you have a device installed, you want to make sure it's not gonna cause problems. Main thing is, we're protected for at least four years now. Then once we're out of college, we'll see about giving your Mom a grandchild."

Dipper got up and strolled out as far as the low log fence around the parking lot.

Mabel said, "He sure gets embarrassed easily."

"Probably a guy thing," Wendy said. "So you want to know what we're using and how I got it and the whole deal, huh?"

"If you don't mind. 'Cause I'll be looking at that before too very long."

Wendy talked about the process, and Mabel listened, probably making mental notes. When they finished, Dipper—just too far away to hear them—glanced around and walked back.

"It's safe, Brobro!" Mabel said. "Wendy gave me the skinny on birth control."

"There's a Gnome right under the porch," Dipper said. "He's got the skinny, too, I guess."

From under the porch, a high-pitched voice said, "Gnomes don't do it the same way! We use a potion!"

"Pervert!" Mabel said.

"I'm an anthropologist!" the Gnome said. They heard him—or maybe her, it was hard to tell just from their voices—scurry off.

"Didn't know Gnomes had anthropologists," Wendy said.

"Who knows what they have?" Dipper asked—rhetorically, because really, nobody did know. Under Jeff's administration as Prime Minister, the Gnomes were learning reading and writing—with the English alphabet for English, and runes for traditional Gnomish—and at least some mathematics. Not very long ago, in the entire group of Civilized Gnomes, only about a dozen could speak English, and about half that many could read Runic. Jeff had been the only one relatively fluent and literate in English.

Things were changing from the days when an all-powerful Gnome Queen made all the decisions for each and every Gnome, and when Gnomes used "a thousand" to stand for any big number, the term "big" varying from Gnome to Gnome. Their population had nearly doubled, not just through natural reproduction, but through the return of a great many Gnomes who'd gone feral under the last couple of Queens. Though they tended to be conservative and still grumbled that things weren't like they were in the old days, these returned Gnomes also had to admit that Civilized Gnomes—those who lived on the surface, in the trees—didn't freeze or starve in the winter, were prosperous, and had a great deal as the town's waste-disposal and pest-control experts.

Plus a few of the old-line underground feral Gnomes had show biz in their hearts and joined in the Gnome dancing troupe that entertained in the Shack. When tourists didn't think they were very clever animatronics, they generally bought into the urban legend that the Gnomes were descendants of circus dwarfs. The dancing was so profitable—they got paid, and people threw money, too!—that no Gnome wanted to correct the humans' misperceptions.

Ah, well. Times change. Geetaur, the young Manotaur who had played baseball one summer—a human thing that nearly got him expelled from his species—had gone through a rebellious teen phase and now was becoming, of all things, an artist. He specialized in chainsaw carving. He made miniature (that is, four to six feet tall) totem poles, exquisitely detailed. Soos took them on consignment and so far had sold about a dozen of them. Geetaur now wore clothes patterned after human attire—special jeans, made just for him, and an extra-large sport jacket, never buttoned or worn over a shirt.

Dipper had heard rumors that Geetaur had actually dated a human girl or two—nothing serious, because Manotaur mating was pretty far removed from the human kind—but apparently it was becoming a thing for Gravity Falls girls to share a soda with the young, muscular Manotaur.

Times do change.

* * *

Not long before nine PM, Dad called to say they were just turning into Ford's driveway—he and Wanda Pines would stay in Ford's and Lorena's guest room for their visit—and Dipper and Mabel went down the hill to help them unload.

Dad stood by the passenger side of the car, doing leg stretches and windmilling his arms. He hugged Mabel when she rushed him. Dipper held the door for his mom, who had driven the last leg, and then helped Billy with the seatbelt in back. The one on the driver's side was a little sticky, and Dipper showed him how to hold the button down and wiggle the tab to release it.

"You ought to get that fixed," he told him mother. "If there was an accident and someone had to get out fast—"

"Oh, give me a hug before you lecture me," she said.

Ford and Lorena came out, they toted their suitcases inside, and after Alex and Wanda gratefully turned down the Pines's offer of something to drink—"Thanks, but if you don't mind, we just want to chat for a little with our kids and then turn in. It was a long, long drive!"—they drove the RAV4 the few hundred feet up the road to the Mystery Shack.

Soos, Melody, and Wendy came out to greet them, and Soos carried Billy's suitcase inside for him. They sat in the parlor, and when Soos asked, "How was the drive?" Alex said, "Tiring, but not bad."

"Except there they were doing road repair," Wanda said. "We were down to one lane, and traffic just crept along."

"Which way'd you come?" Wendy asked.

Once they would have driven up to Portland, then west alongside the Columbia River, then south, but they'd learned the shortcut—more in distance than in time, because the Portland route was mostly on Interstates, and the shortcut included some winding mountain roads. The highway repair had been on US 97, south of Worden. "It was already dark," Alex said, "but they were out with a power truck and lights."

"Yeah, they do a lot of that," Wendy said. "Guess they figure traffic isn't as heavy after sundown. Hey, Dip says you have a sticky seatbelt in the rear of your RAV4. I'll take a look at that if you want. I think I know what's going wrong with it, from what he says, and with luck I can fix it in an hour or two."

"That would be great!" Alex said. "It's rare for someone to ride back there, and we tend to let it slide, but, yes, if you don't mind!"

"Happy to do it," Wendy said. "I'll work it in on Tuesday. I'd do it tomorrow, but Dipper and I are driving over to the house we're renting for college to take a load of stuff over. Don't want to leave it to the last minute."

"Oh, you won't be around?" Wanda asked, obviously disappointed.

"We're going to leave really early in the morning," Dipper said. "Like around five A.M. We'll get there between nine and ten, take a little time to unload and get some lunch, and with luck, we ought to be back by five or six. We thought we'd take you out to a good restaurant we know for dinner."

"That sounds great," Alex said. "Thanks. Sure you won't need a hand to carry stuff?"

"Just a few suitcases and some household goods," Wendy said. "And you guys had a long drive already. But thanks anyway!"

By a little past ten, everyone was yawning, so Mr. and Mrs. Pines went down to Ford's and Lorena's to turn in. Dipper helped Billy by carrying his suitcase—a heavy one—up to the attic. "Mom makes me pack a lot," Billy said by way of apology.

"That's kind of a mom's job," Dipper said. "Here you go. We made up the bed for you. There's an extra blanket at the foot if you get cold. You want to shower?"

"Yeah, thanks. It's funny. I didn't do anything except sit in the back of the car, but I feel kind of sweaty."

Dipper went downstairs to wish Wendy a good night before coming back up. When he got to the attic, Billy was already in bed, sound asleep.

Dipper quietly turned in himself. He set an alarm on his phone, turning off the sound so it would only vibrate, and then placed it close to the head of his bed.

Then he waited to go to sleep. In his head, he was reviewing the list of what to take over tomorrow morning: his big suitcase with college clothes, jeans and informal shirts and underwear and socks, but also some dress slacks and button-up shirts, a couple of ties just in case, and on hangers his sport jacket, a light windbreaker, a winter coat, and one suit, last worn at his grandmother's funeral.

He'd decided to hold on taking over his books and his laptop. He'd probably take the computer when they left for the honeymoon, but the books could wait to be brought over on Saturday.

He'd already boxed and labeled them all. Same with the wall decorations—the sailing ship painting that had come with the attic bedroom and that Soos had offered him was the bulkiest item—and other odds and ends.

Instead of counting sheep, he went down the checklist, mentally clicking off each item, and that led him into sleep.

Hey, however much he'd grown up, however much he'd changed, he was, after all, still Dipper.


	4. Chapter 4

**X Marks the Day**

**(August 28, 2017)**

* * *

**4 Home, Sweet**

Way before sunrise, Dipper rose on Monday. He had laid out his clothes in the bathroom, so he wouldn't wake Billy. He got dressed and then came downstairs quietly but discovered that Wendy was there before him. They kissed, and then she said, "Better have a little breakfast and coffee before we start out."

She had scrambled up some eggs and fried some sausage links. Dipper popped in a couple of pieces of bread for toast and then took a sticky-note pad from his pocket and wrote, "Hi, Mabel—when Tripper gets you up, check on Billy. Thanks! Dipper."

He went down the hallway and put the note on her door—and then he heard Tripper woofing and Mabel muttering. He stepped back, she opened the door, and Tripper dashed past him as Mabel, still rubbing her eyes, nearly collided with her brother. "Whoa!" Mabel exclaimed. "Stalking me much? That's not creepy at all!"

"Just giving you this," Dipper said, handing her the note.

They went to the dining room. Mabel let Tripper out and then read the note. "Oh, yeah, you know I won't forget him," she said. "Enough eggs for me to have some?"

Wendy glanced at Dipper over the rim of her coffee cup. "Sure," he said. "I'll split fifty-fifty with you. Want toast?"

"Please! And not the whole-wheat. I think it's too stale."

Dipper took his own whole-wheat slices out of the toaster and popped in some homemade sourdough for Mabel. When he turned around, Mabel had already finished her share of the scrambled eggs and had eaten all three of his sausage links. "Coffee," she said through a half-full mouth. Dipper poured her a cup, passed her the cream and sugar, and said, "I hope I get a good tip for the service."

"Don't trust a dog with orange eyebrows," Mabel said cheerfully. "Before you sit down, Tripper is scratching to get in."

"Yes, Mistress," Dipper said. He opened the door, Tripper came inside and settled on the floor next to Mabel, just in case of tidbits. Mabel said, "Toast, please!"

Sighing, Dipper served her two pieces of toast and gave her the butter and the pot of Sallie Corduroy's strawberry jam. Then he settled down to his own tepid breakfast. Wendy slipped him one of her sausage links. At least the coffee was still hot. As he finished his toast, Dipper said, "Mabel, rule for college, OK? I won't wait on you this way when we start school."

"So open season until then!" Mabel said cheerfully. "OK, come on, Tripper. I'm going back to bed until its real breakfast time."

"You gonna have another breakfast?" Wendy asked.

"This was just a morning snack," Mabel said as she and Tripper went down the hallway.

Wendy shook her head. "One day her metabolism's gonna slow a little bit, and then it's dieting from there on out. Want me to cook you another egg, Dip?"

"No, I'm good. We'll pick up something for lunch. I am gonna take a travel mug of coffee, though."

"Good deal. There's enough left, I think I'll take a mug, too."

So they filled two silver MYSTERY SHACK coffee mugs, added a little cream, and loaded up both of their cars. Dipper hauled out a plastic laundry basket and asked, "You washed the sheets?"

"Yeah, man," Wendy said. "When you buy them, they have this stuff called sizing in them. Washing them makes them feel softer, less scratchy."

"When did you do this?"

"Right after we bought the sheets. It's OK, I didn't need any help. Little cool this morning, bit of fall in the air. You good to go, dude?"

"Yep. Meet you at Pines Palace!"

"OK, dude. How about I stop and buy us some burgers and fries? I'll have to drive like four miles out of the way, so you'll probably get there first."

"Great," Dipper said. "You know what I like. Drive carefully!"

"You, too! Watch out for logging trucks!"

It was dark as midnight—only 5:20—and Dipper had to watch out for no logging trucks at all and very little other traffic. The stoplights in town were just flashing yellow, so he slowed and eased through them. Once he had to break for a possum scooting across the road, with a Gnome in hot pursuit, but otherwise it was easy running.

As he drove south, the sun peeped up, and then he turned on the highway that ran through the Cascades and trended southeast, so he put on a pair of amber driving shades. Wendy was ahead of him. At a rest area, he saw her Dodge Dart parked, so he pulled off too for a bathroom break and a little walk to stretch his legs. She said everything was fine and made sure he wasn't feeling sleepy—by then it was about his usual time to wake up—before they started again.

Nothing much happened on the drive. They made one gas stop, and when they came within sight of the big blue Welcome to California sign, they were running together, Wendy's Dart not far ahead of his Land Runner. From there it was less than forty miles to their college house.

Dipper's phone ran its GPS app—he'd been there only once before—and he followed the directions along a country road that led up toward a big lake and skirted a forest preserve. Finally he turned in at the driveway. He paused in the drive to take out his keyring—the garage door opener was on it—and clicked the button. The garage door obediently rolled up, and he pulled in and parked. He opened the door from the garage into the mud room and hauled in the basket of sheets, followed by his luggage. He paused long enough to disarm the home-security system.

The house was stuffy, so he also dialed the thermostat down. Once he had everything inside, he closed the house door but left the garage open for Wendy. He went to the big sliding-glass door and looked out into the fenced-in back yard. Huh. The grass looked neatly trimmed. He wondered if Grunkle Stan had arranged for a service to come in and mow now and again.

Then he heard the sound of Wendy's car parking in the garage and went to help her bring her stuff inside.

"Just pile it in the living room for now," she said. "We'll have our lunch first and then put everything away and make up the beds."

They sat on either side of the table, smiling at each other as they ate their burgers and fries. "Not as good as Teek's," Dipper observed."

"Haven't found any that match his yet," Wendy said.

When they finished, they put all their trash into one of the fast-food bags. Then they spent a couple of hours unpacking and storing clothes in the two small, but adequate walk-in closets. Then they made up Mabel's bed—queen-sized—and spread a loose-weave blue blanket over it in lieu of a comforter.

Whoa! Their bed—the king-sized one—looked huge and took a little time to dress with the fresh new sheets. They had not brought their pillows—those would come on Thursday, when the honeymoon officially began. But they did try the bed out—just by lying on it.

"Don't know if this is really cost-efficient," Wendy said. "Look at all the room we have—and we're gonna be using just a little bit of it, 'cause I'll want to snuggle!"

So they tested out the snuggling potential, and it looked as though the bed would be ideal for that. But they got up before things went too, or even very, far. They put up a few things—Wendy's FALLOUT SHELTER sign on her side of the bed, Dipper's framed painting of a two-masted sailing vessel riding up a curling wave on his.

Around two in the afternoon, Wendy said, "Well, we've done about all the damage we can with what we have." She switched off the entertainment center in the living room—they had been listening to the college radio station, which featured an alt-rock playlist that didn't get too annoying. "Anything else before we head back to the Falls?"

"Um—we could fill up the hot tub," he said.

Wendy gave him a wide grin. "Nice! But time-consuming. It'd take at least an hour to fill that thing up. Better wait on that one. But I am looking forward to it."

They took their lunch trash, made sure the house was locked up and the alarm system set and armed, and then got in the Green Machine. "Garage-door fobs work?" Wendy asked. In reply, Dipper took out his keyring and closed the door.

Cool. They headed back on the same route they'd taken to get there. On this trip, they could trade off driving duty, and they also enjoyed having the time to talk. College would begin the day after Labor Day with Orientation Day and registration—though they didn't have to worry about that, having pre-registered online—and the next day—classes.

As they neared the Falls, Dipper called his mother and got a read on how many were going out to dinner—Mr. and Mrs. Pines, Billy, Teek, and Mabel—and then he called the restaurant in Hirschville and made the reservation. Mabel, who was with their parents, had told him she and Teek would drive Mom and Dad to the restaurant and they'd meet there.

"Tired much?" Dipper asked as the phone call ended.

"Not so bad," Wendy said. "Guess I'm excited to be getting our own place."

"Yeah, ours and Mabel's," Dipper said, grinning.

"It'll work out, Dip," Wendy said. "She'll have her own space. Only thing, we'll have to kind of watch her to make sure she doesn't get all depressed 'cause Teek will be leaving."

"Yeah, well, I think they'll be on the phone to each other often enough to make her feel a little better. But she'll stay busy. She wants to try out for the fall drama production at Olmsted, and she's carrying a full schedule of classes, too. Maybe that will be enough to keep her from moping."

"We'll hope."

At dinner, Billy was bouncy and excited—he'd seen the Gnomes near the Shack, and Mabel had given him some mushrooms to present to them, so he had friends forever among the wee folk. He was usually reluctant to talk much out in public, but that evening he was lively—because, perhaps, he'd shared a long car trip with Mr. and Mrs. Pines and Alex, especially, knew how to draw him out. One thing about Alex—he never talked down to kids, and he was always interested in what they were interested in and wanted to listen to their stories and opinions.

Over dinner, Billy talked about the Museum and the Mystery Trail with its new animatronic show of mysteries from around the world—Soos had given him a personal tour!—and how Tripper could kind of, sort of, spell simple words with wooden blocks, and a dozen other things.

Mabel laughed at his jokes, even the ones that didn't come out quite right, and that gave him more confidence. He stuck with a simple order, though—the restaurant offered lots of local dishes, from native salmon to lamb chops and filet mignon, so on and so forth. Billy ordered mac and cheese.

And enjoyed it, from all appearances. The others explored the menu, Mabel ordering a petite steak and then, as was her habit, also sampling salmon from her dad's plate, risotto from her mom's, stroganoff from Wendy's, and chicken cordon bleu from Dipper's. She was an inveterate grazer.

Dipper could tell that his mother was a little misty. Despite all assurances, she still fretted that Wendy and Dipper were so, well, _young._

But at least she'd given up on asking Dipper, "Are you really sure about this?" She had kept that up for a really long time.

Tonight, though, she tried to be cheerful, though when they returned to the Falls and let Alex and Wanda out at Ford's house, she did sigh and say, "Thursday is coming so fast!"

Yes, it sure was. And all Dipper had to do, he thought, was to make sure that between now and then—he just didn't screw up.


	5. Chapter 5

**X Marks the Day**

**(August 2017)**

* * *

**5: Just the Jitters**

_From the Journals of Dipper Pines:_ Well, Dad warned me. It's, I don't know, some time in the night, pretty late, I suppose. I'm sitting on the top step of the attic stairs with my Journal on my lap, because I woke up and wanted to write this before I could forget it.

OK, before I get to that, let me go back a little. Today Wendy and I drove over to Crescent City and took some stuff to the house that Grunkle Stan and Grunkle Ford are renting to us and Mabel for very little money. We put up some pictures and art and stuff in our bedroom, we stored clothes in the closets, and put sheets on the beds. Had our first meal in the house—two burgers from Bigberg's Big Burgers, a little joint about four miles toward town from the house, and they were just OK.

Anyway, after all that, Wendy and I drove back to Gravity Falls together in her car, and then we met Mom, Dad, Billy, Teek, and Mabel for dinner in the Valley View, a nice restaurant on a riverbank. The food was good, and mostly, we had a good time.

Mabel, though, being Mabel, kept making little jokes that (I hope) went over Billy's head, sort of needling Wendy and me. All about the wedding and the honeymoon. Anyway.

After we got back home, Billy was sleepy and went on up to bed. Mom and Dad are staying down the hill with Grunkle Ford and Lorena. Mabel and Teek went off to look at the stars or something.

That meant Wendy and I had the sofa to ourselves, and with the TV on but the sound turned down real low, we kind of talked things over the way we do, silently, holding hands. I mean, Soos and Melody and Abuelita were all in bed—it wasn't much past ten, but they all turn in early—and Billy was upstairs and probably asleep, Mabel was out somewhere, and Tripper had curled up down at our feet and wasn't interested, but still—it was a private conversation.

_(At this point, the text switches to the Atbash cipher.)_

Wendy sensed that something was bothering me. _What's wrong, Dip? It's been a good day, right?_

—_Yeah. I mean, it was fun working on the house with you, and even the burgers weren't too bad. But then dinner—Mabel kept pestering me about the wedding and all. She's way too cheery and full of herself. What's she up to?_

_Don't ask me that, dude. You know Mabes even better than I do. She's probably planning some surprise for the wedding. Just ride it out. It won't be anything worse than embarrassing. What else is bothering you? The Bill Cipher thing?_

—_I guess. Oh, I don't know. It's not supposed to be all that big a deal, but, you know. It's like dreading a visit to the dentist when you think you might have a cavity. Something like that._

_Wouldn't know, Dip. I just go to the dentist for a cleaning twice a year. Never had a cavity. I got the Corduroy teeth. Once my Dad chewed his way out from under a fallen tree. I'll let him tell you that story later!_

—_OK. Yeah, but—well, something's making me jumpy, don't know what. It's something unknown, I guess. And I don't feel so great physically. I've had a couple of twinges, but I'm afraid it might hurt worse when it happens. And what if—never mind._

_What if you, like, have a heart attack and die before our wedding?_

—_It's crazy. The Axolotl will make sure nothing like that will happen. But I—I don't know. I can't help fretting over ideas like that. I just don't know why._

_I do. It's 'cause you're Dipper. Yeah, of course you worry. Like me. Yeah, I can feel your surprised to know that, but it's true. I worry that I can't cut it as a wife and homemaker and student and all._

—_You know better than that! You can do anything._

_Correction, man. WE can do anything. Together. You know, it's too bad that—no, strike that. We've made it this far._

—_What? Too bad that we couldn't sleep over at the house, you mean?_

_Yeah, something like that. But—two days and then we can sleep anywhere we please. So we just have to be careful until then!_

—_Right. Mom thinks we're already, um, you know._

_Dude, she asked me straight out, and I told her no, nothing physical. Got her to believe me, too! Then she worried that because we hadn't, um, taken a test drive, we might turn out not be, I guess you'd say, compatible!_

—_That's Mom. Now you see where I got my worry gene. I hope she doesn't want a written report in triplicate about how the honeymoon night goes!_

_Dip, I think the day after you can face-time her, and when she sees our faces, she'll know it's more than OK._

(The Atbash cipher breaks off here.)

That was the gist. Anyway, I can't get the doubts out of my head. Dad told me, "Everybody has second thoughts and gets the jitters just before they get married. It won't kill you, and after Thursday, you'll know you and Wendy did the right thing."

Dad, I really, really hope you're right. Huh. Filled four pages! I'm writing more than I meant, but whatever. I'm not sleepy.

As Wendy and I sat on the sofa holding hands, Mabel got back, and Wendy and I went off to bed around eleven or a little before. Billy was sound asleep in Mabel's old bed, curled up under the sheet. He's stressed, too, when he thinks about everything. He was sort of in a fetal position, and even his shape under the sheep looked tense. I pulled the blanket up, in case he was just chilly.

I lay down in bed, in my underwear as usual, and the sheets were uncomfortably cool, so I pulled a light blanket over me as well as the sheet. The drive over and back to Crescent City tired more out more than I thought, I guess, because despite all my worrying, pretty soon I went to sleep and some time during that sleep I had a nightmare.

This was not one of my lucid dreams. It was a vivid dream. I've only had three or four in my whole life that felt so real. The others were OK, but this one—ugh.

Unlike the Mindscape, this dream was in color and all. At the time, it seemed logical and just everyday life. Looking back on it, it was crazy and lots of stuff should have tipped me off that I was dreaming, but when I was in the middle of it all, everything seemed real, and I just accepted it.

In he dream, I woke up pretty early, five-thirty or six. Still dark outside. Billy wasn't here, the other bed was empty, and I somehow knew Billy wasn't around, so I got dressed and went downstairs, and nobody else was here, either.

The Shack was empty. Then I sort of remembered that Soos and Melody were going to be out all day and Mabel and Wendy had gone with them to—somewhere. Some small-business association meeting or some deal. I was supposed to stay in the Shack and tell any tourists who showed up that we were closed for the day.

The dream skipped some time. It was later, close to noon. In the Shack the TV and radio weren't working at all, and it started to feel creepy. I got lonesome, so I walked down the hill to see if Grunkle Ford or Grunkle Stan wanted to do anything.

Their houses weren't there. I quickly got lost in the woods, which is ridiculous, because the road is right there. But the woods hadn't been cut, no houses had been built, and no Stan or Ford. That really bothered me, but being lost wasn't a big deal. I knew all I had to do to get back to the Shack was walk uphill.

Couldn't find it. It seemed to annoy me more than scare me. I mean, the Shack was right up the hill—you literally couldn't miss it. But somehow, I did, wandering around the woods until I came out in the clearing where the Cipher effigy stood—and it was still there, not crumbled to pieces, and the cage around it was gone.

I just stared at it, knowing that if I turned around and went straight away from it through the woods, after a couple hundred yards I'd come out on the Mystery Trail. For some reason I found it hard, no, impossible to turn my back and walk away.

Then the statue came to life—it was Bill Cipher, who was his old self, yellow and solid and floating just above the ground: "Well, well, well, well-well-well-well-well! Pine Tree! You're a sight for sore eye! Where you been? Keeping yourself? Sheesh, kid, don't look so shocked. You know no one can beat me at my own shell game! You must have suspected this was all part of my master plan!"

"What are you talking about?" I asked him.

Bill twirled his cane. "Figure it out, genius! It's plain as the nose that's not on my face! I used you and little Billy to get my old body back! And it feels great!"

I clenched my fists. "No, you have to be lying! The Axolotl—"

Bill roared with mocking laughter. "Old Frilly! Silly Frilly! I scammed him, kid! Scammed you and Sixer and Fez and everybody! And now I've sealed this reality off from Ax and the Oracle, and I rule the world! Ah-ha-ha-ha!"

"That's a lie! We beat you!"

"Oh, really? You think so, kid? Come on, pay attention while I'm belittling you! What are you looking around for? You trying to see Red?"

"Where is Wendy?" I asked.

"Oh, she's here, kid. I'll do you a big favor. I'll let you see her."

"We beat you! Wendy's not here!"

"Oh, you think not? Look into my eye, kid, and wave goodbye!"

His eye got huge, and I saw Wendy inside it, her expression terrified, her hands pressed against the inside of his eyeball as if she were standing trapped behind a round window.

"No!" I said.

He blinked and she was gone, and his eye was back to normal. "Yeah, I'd let you kiss farewell and all, but I ate her already. They're all inside me now—Shooting Star, Sixer, the big guy, everybody! Well, now they've become one body, my body. Funny, I can't stomach you! You had me way down in your heart, so you're immune. But from now on out, kid, forever, it's just you and me. I've made statues out of everybody else in this whole crummy world. When you join me, we can plan to branch out to other worlds. Before you know it, we'll be masters of the universe! By the power of yellowskull! Ah-ha-ha-ha!"

"I'll never join you!" I heard myself yell.

"Sorry, Pine Tree," Bill said, leaning on his cane. "You already have!"

Then somehow, I was back outside the Shack.

But I couldn't go in.

A dome of power rested over the Mystery Shack, pale blue, but exploding into arcane symbols of power when I tried to pass through it.

I pounded my fists on it.

And then I saw how weird they looked, and I stared down at myself.

I was a yellow triangle.

I was Bill.

I woke up terrified.

So I grabbed the Journal and came out here on the landing to write it all down.

God, I hope it was just a dream. I hope Bill really is trying to reform. I hope Billy will be all right after Thursday.

Please.

Please.

Don't let the dream be true. Don't let me think that it's too late.

That somehow, I've already screwed everything up.


	6. Chapter 6

**X Marks the Day**

**(August 29, 2017)**

* * *

**6: Tired Tuesday**

Wendy and Dipper took the day off from running that Tuesday. They normally ran five days a week and took two off—but they rotated. One week they would run on Sunday, Monday, skip Tuesday, and then run on Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday before taking Saturday off. Then the next week they would run on Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday, skip Wednesday, run Thursday, skip Friday, and run Saturday.

Rotating the rest days gave them time to recoup and give their bodies a chance to build up muscle and get ready for the next round of running. Anyway, Dipper woke up too tired to run, having slept only about four hours the night before. Billy was in great shape, though. At breakfast, Soos delighted him by asking, "Hey, little dude, you want to be the conductor on the tram ride? You can help the tourists get seated and then ride up front with me."

Oh, yeah! Soos put together a kind of uniform for him—a black vest with yellow question marks on the lapels, plus a black and yellow "WHAT IS THE MYSTERY SHACK?" trucker's hat. Add to that a police whistle on a lanyard, and Billy was all set. He was a little disappointed that after breakfast a full hour remained before the Shack opened for business.

Gideon and Ulva showed up, and Ulva fussed over Billy so much that—Dipper thought—Gideon started to feel a little bit jealous. When Billy went outside with Soos to prepare the tram for the day's run, Gideon chuckled and said, "Ulva, sweetie, be careful when you're tellin' little old Billy that he's cute. Remember, he's not but eleven years old. Little kids like that can get a crush on a pretty girl like you."

"I did wrong?" Ulva asked with a pained expression.

Mabel hugged her. "No, Ulva, it's OK. Yeah, Billy's too young for us, but it's just normal for a little boy to feel attracted to us mature ladies. Anyhow, I think he's too excited about helping Soos to really fall in love with you."

"Aw," Gideon said, looking sheepish, "I just meant don't encourage him, is all. That might hurt his feelings, when you had to explain that you can't be his girlfriend."

Dipper, stocking the cash-register drawer, winced but didn't respond. Sometimes old wounds can unexpectedly ache. Wendy, in her manager's uniform, came to the rescue: "Hey, Ulva! Help me get the shelves in order?"

"Yes!" Ulva trotted right off. She had an almost obsessive interest in putting things in their places and making sure that all the merchandise was lined up precisely. It was something at which she was not only excellent, but which made her very happy. As Ulva, with cute concentration, stood at the carousel rack that displayed tee shirts, arranging them by style, imprints, color, and sizes, Wendy sauntered over to the counter.

"You OK, Dip? You got stress lines like crazy."

"Just didn't sleep well," he said. "Crazy dreams."

"Nightmare?"

"Kind of. About Bill Cipher returning."

"Want to take the day off?"

Dipper smiled and shook his head. "Better to keep myself occupied. I don't think it was a precognitive dream or anything. Just anxiety."

"Uh-huh. Wedding jitters, like Dr. P. said."

"I suppose." Dipper looked around. Mabel was off in the snack bar, getting things ready so Teek wouldn't have to do a whole lot to get ready for a day of cooking. "How about you? Getting cold feet?"

She leaned on the counter and took his hand. _Just the usual worry about whether I can cope with being a full-time college girl. I just part-timed it up to now._

—_You'll do great. Oh, Wendy, it's the same with me. I'm not worrying about you at all. Just me. I've got to be a husband, a college student—and I have a book to finish writing this fall!_

_Dip, I promise I'll see to it that you have private time every day to work on your writing._

—_Thanks. Two hours a day should do it. If I can get that much clear, I can finish a draft in six weeks. And revising and rewriting are getting easier. I'm kind of learning what the editor's gonna ask for._

From outside the Shack a whistle shrilled. Dipper and Wendy looked out the diamond-paned window to see what Billy was up to.

Customers were coming in—three cars parked, a couple more just pulling up the driveway. Soos, in his Mr. Mystery suit but wearing a specially-made engineer's cap instead of his fez—same color, but instead of the Holy Mackerel insignia, it bore a question mark—was selling tram tickets.

At his side, Billy blew the whistle again. Dipper could just hear his high-pitched voice: "All aboard for the Mystery Tour! See the Gnomes! See the Manotaur! See mysteries from around the globe come to life!"

He was attracting riders, and he looked ridiculously happy.

Wendy said, "I don't think we have to worry about Bill Cipher trying to make a comeback, Dip. Billy's learned to be human enough to absorb that last little bit."

"I hope so," Dipper said.

"Any more chest pains?"

"No, not really. Kind of a strange fluttering in my stomach now and then, that's all."

"Butterflies." Wendy gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. _Don't worry, dude. We totally got this. I wouldn't want anybody but you._

—_Love you, Magic Girl._

_Love you, Big Dipper._

"Hey, hey," rumbled Grunkle Stan, who had just walked in, adjusting his fez and eyepatch. "Get mushy on your own time! We got rubes to fleece!"

Mabel emerged from the snack bar and started to set up the cash register for food sales. "You tell 'em, Grunkle Stan! Those two, huh?"

"Yeah. What's with the whistle kid?"

"He's the tram conductor," Dipper explained, settling on the bench behind the register. He explained how Soos had found a role for Billy.

"Seems to work," Stan said. "Nobody's lining up for the Museum at all. Everybody wants to ride the Mystery Trail. How much is Soos payin' the kid?"

"Nothing," Wendy said. "Billy thinks it's a game. And he likes riding up front and wearing the costume."

"Good for Soos! He usually wants to spend money like it was for spending." He rubbed his big red nose. "Eh, but it ain't fair. Dip, slip Billy a twenty, tell him that's his pay for conducting. I'll put it back in the till."

"You big softie," Wendy said.

"Yeah, yeah. Hey, Ulva, you finished getting everything here in order?"

"All finished, Mr. Stan!"

"OK, good, how about comin' into the Museum and helpin' me dust and make sure everything's in place?"

"Yes!" Ulva did not quite do an air-punch, but it was implicit in her happy response. She hurried into the Museum.

"She's the best werewolf that ever worked for us," Stan observed, following her.

"You know, he's right," Dipper said.

"Absolutely," Wendy agreed. "Gideon, Ulva's a keeper."

"Aw," said Gideon, "I know it!"

As the tram set off, a tour bus parked, and those customers came through the Museum, where Stan regaled them with tales of the Sascrotch, the Six-Pack-Alope, the Fiji Mermonkey, and other wonders. Then they flowed out into the gift shop, and warmed up as they had been by Grunkle Stan, they immediately began to buy overpriced souvenirs.

And the tram came back, more happy tourists came in, and the Shack began to do brisk business.

* * *

When they locked up at six, Billy seemed tired but happy. Wendy and Dipper had noticed how Teek and Mabel were lingering close to each other all morning and afternoon, and also how Billy, with the lingering remnants of a crush, kept chatting to Mabel, oblivious to Mabel's obvious desire to make the most of the time she had left with Teek before he flew off to film school.

So they cooked up a plan, and at dinner, Dipper asked, "Hey, Billy, are you too tired to go see a movie?"

"What movie?" he asked.

"_The Mechabots: The Clash for Cash _is playing at the Multiplex," Wendy said. "Dipper and I thought we'd check it out. Wanna come along?"

Well, Billy was an eleven-year-old boy, and the Mechabots were gigantic machines—trains, planes, and monster trucks—that could morph into enormous robots to combat evil enormous robots, each and every one of whom was represented by a toy version that could be bought in any store that sold toys at a price that represented a markup over manufacturing costs of 2,125%. Of course he wanted to see it!

They had to hustle to hit the seven-thirty show, but they made it just in time to sit through the last two previews—a live-action version of _The Sorcerer's Apprentice _with a live mouse as the star. It looked, well, kind of weird and off-putting, and mentally Dipper put the film on the list of movies he would be sure not to fail to miss. The other move was _The Revengers: End of the Game_, which looked like 95% of its budget went to CGI. The preview gave Dipper the odd sense that he'd already seen that movie, though of course he hadn't.

_Huh. Somehow these big-budget blockbuster action movies don't seem as much fun as I get when Wendy and I watch an old black-and-white no-budget horror flick from the fifties._

Then the feature began. Initially, the people of Megalopolis were united in their hatred for the Mechabots, whose last battle against evil had ruined about half of the city, though in the end they had won against the Alienators.

The big machines were facing multiple lawsuits and their legal representative, Barristerbot, was stretching his talents thin. Virtually the only human friend of the Megabots was Russ Teebolt, a cub reporter for the city newspaper, whose advocacy for the robots ran up against the resistance of Misti Donn, a beat cop who looked like a runway model and insisted, "You can't trust them!"

And then the Malevolents, crystalline versions of morphing Megabots, invaded without warning, destroying skyscrapers, laying waste to hospitals and kindergartens, and disregarding red lights, attacked the city, and the desperate mayor appealed to UltraMegaBot himself, the leader of the Megabots, to once again save their bacon.

Dipper thought the plot seemed predictable, and the acting wasn't all that great. On the up side, the explosions, chases, and collisions made more than enough noise to keep a very tired Dipper awake and alert. That was good, because the plot had been heavily front-loaded. The major conflict was between the Mechabots and the invaders, but for the first hour or so, the movie basically became a not very exciting courtroom drama.

Barristerbot insisted on drawing up a waiver and a release from legal liability, which took enough time for the city's baseball park to be destroyed, but at last with the legal issues resolved, time remained for a fifty-seven-minute long CGI battle. In the course of it, Locobot (when he wasn't being a robot, he was a 530-ton 2-8-8-8-2 locomotive) carefully picked up the fire engine in which Russ had narrowly saved Misti's life when UgliVent, the largest Malevolent, was beginning to stomp Police HQ to dust, laughing and yelling, "I break the law!". Locobot gently took Russ and Misti out of the fire engine and then used the vehicle as a club to pound UgliVent to fragments.

"Are you OK?" Russ yelled in Misti's face. "Say you're OK! Because I love you!"

"Let's get married tonight!" Misty yelled back. They kissed.

And then the Megabots discovered an electronically-produced sound that imploded the crystal of which the Malevolents were composed.

Unfortunately, it also destroyed the circuits of the Mechabot who produced it. And of course UltraMegaBot volunteered and made the ultimate sacrifice to save the city and possibly humankind.

In the end, Misti, one of the few surviving police officers, became Acting Chief of Police as Russ arranged for the Megabots to take the shell of their heroic, fallen leader with them into space—until the next sequel.

"That was great!" said Billy as they left the theater.

"It was certainly loud," Dipper said with a grin.

"That battle went on for a really long time," Wendy added as they walked out to the car.

"Yeah," Billy said. "It was totally great!"

They stopped for a late ice-cream cone, then returned to the Shack. Dipper saw Ford's Lincoln ahead, and when it turned into Ford's and Lorena's drive, he saw his parents riding in the back seat.

His phone rang as they parked in the Shack lot, and he answered it as they walked inside. "Hi, Mom."

"Just checking in," she said. "How was your day?"

"The usual," he said. "We had a busy day at work, then we took Billy to the movies."

"Is Mabel with you?"

"Um, no. I think she and Teek are out on a date."

"Oh."

"I'll leave her a note to call you, Mom. If they're at the skating rink or bowling alley, she probably can't hear her phone." _Or if they're parked up at Lookout Point, she's probably too preoccupied to answer it, _he thought.

He took care of that, kissed Wendy goodnight, and headed upstairs a little early. Billy got into his yellow pajamas and into bed. Dipper asked if he'd need another blanket—it was a cool night again—but he said no, he was fine.

Dipper got into bed and asked if the lantern would bother Billy, but Billy had already gone to sleep. So Dipper took out the book he was currently reading (_UFOs: A Surprising History of Aerial Enigmas_) and read a chapter until he fell asleep. He stirred enough to turn off the lantern.

Then he fell into a sleep that, thankfully, included no nightmares.


	7. Chapter 7

**X Marks the Day**

**(August 30, 2017)**

* * *

**7: Weird Wednesday**

Dipper woke early again the next morning. Billy was still sound asleep, but no longer in his tense fetal curl. He lay on his stomach, cheek on the pillow, facing the wall, with his left arm trailing off the bed. His breathing was regular and deep, and he seemed peaceful.

Dipper quietly left the bedroom and went to the bathroom to get dressed for the morning run. He tiptoed downstairs, knowing to avoid every third step—when Soos had repaired the worn, battered old stairs, he had left creaks in, but then he made them regular instead of random. He eased past Mabel's door and tapped very quietly on Wendy's. She opened it, blinking. "Whoa," she whispered, "usually I have to come get you out of bed!"

"Looks like you were up already," he whispered back. She was wearing a tank top, red running shorts, and white socks.

"Yeah, just need to get my shoes on. I figure the nature trail today. Again. OK with you?"

"Sure," Dipper said. Without her saying anything, he knew just what was on Wendy's mind: with the wedding only a day away and everyone in town knowing it, if they'd face constant congratulations, friendly teasing, and—probably—a few bawdy jokes, which would seriously impede their run.

Dipper sat on the foot of Wendy's unmade bed—the room looked different now, with her FALLOUT SHELTER sign gone—and watched his fiancée lean casually against the wall and, bending her knees, put on first her left, then her right, running shoe. "All ready," she said.

They went out into the hallway, being as silent as they could. Even so, they heard Mabel's door open behind them and Tripper dashed past. "You woke him up," Mabel complained, yawning.

"Sorry," Wendy said.

"Wait a minute," Mabel said. "Broseph, Wendy always goes upstairs to wake you up. What were you doing in her room, hmm?"

"I woke earlier today," Dipper said. "Mabel, please. Nothing happened, I just went to make sure she was up, that's all. This is getting really old."

Mabel shrugged and grinned. "Yeah, I guess. It's gonna pass away tomorrow! Have a good run. OK, Tripper, I'm going to let you out!"

Tripper did his business beneath his usual tree, then ran around the corner to join Wendy and Dipper on the lawn as they stretched out. He crouched low in front of them as if taking the job of coach. Then Mabel called from back at the house, and he yipped a farewell and went trotting back to her.

They started jogging and soon passed the Bottomless Pit. Then on the Mystery Trail, a concealed chorus of Gnomes in the underbrush started chanting something that sounded gleeful and possibly a bit naughty, but it was in Gnomish, which neither of the young people understood.

They had not yet got their heart rates up to max, and Wendy asked, "What do you suppose that was?"

"Don't know," Dipper said. "Sounded like young voices. My guess, it's something like 'Dipper and Wendy, sitting in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g."

"Man, even the Gnomes gossip about us! Glad we'll be out of the Valley after we marry. Maybe by the time we come back all the jokers will be used to the idea."

It was a refreshing morning, just cool enough to be comfortable for runners, with a sky clear except for a few high, pale brushstrokes of cirrus clouds. After leaving the young Gnomes behind, they heard nothing but bird songs—well, for a certain definition of _song,_ because at one point a tree full of crows erupted with raucous caws.

"What are they doing here?" Dipper asked. Crows usually hung out in agricultural areas, but they were nowhere close to farmland.

"Probably just passing through," Wendy said. "What's that one after?"

They saw one crow on the ground ahead, hopping around and stabbing his beak into the crevices between the gnarled, twisting roots of an enormous old oak tree. Something green popped over one root and down into a narrower opening between it and the next one.

"Lizard?" Dipper guessed.

They deviated from their course. "Shoo!" Wendy said to the crow. It flapped up to a low limb and crouched there, cursing at them in Bird.

"What are you?" Dipper asked, leaning over the roots. "It's OK, the crow's gone—whoa!"

"Stand off!" shrieked an absurdly high voice.

"Hey, hey," Dipper said, "Wendy scared the crow off! What the heck are you?"

"It's a little green guy," Wendy said, bending over beside Dipper.

"Get away! I was about to kill that bloody bird!"

"Or maybe the other way around," Dipper said. "There's a whole tree full of them. Come on, we can carry you somewhere safe."

"Carry me, will you! Stinking Biggers!"

"You can catch a ride with us," Wendy said. "Put it that way."

"Come on," Dipper said. "No strings. We're just helping out a guy who's got bird trouble."

"I'm not a guy," the little creature grumped. "I'm an imp."

"Dude," Wendy said, "you come from the fairy glade, right?"

"What if I do? I don't have to stay there all the time!"

"Dip, what do you think? Change our route so we can drop this imp off?"

"Fine with me," Dipper said.

Behind them, the crows started to yammer in a kind of threatening way. Wendy asked, "Remind you of a movie?"

"Hitchcock," Dipper said. "Look, imp, I can tie this bandanna around my neck and make a pocket. You can ride in it. We'll get you out of here."

A crow swooped low right over Dipper's head.

"All right," growled the imp, "if it'll shut you up."

Wendy tied the bandanna for him, and Dipper let the tiny creature step into his hand. It was only about six inches tall, squat and ugly, with a round ball of a head, clothed—in a way—in leaves sewn together. "Don't throw me!" the imp warned. "I'll curse ye forever if ye do!"

"I'm not going to throw you, man," Dipper said. He carefully deposited the little humanoid figure in the bandanna-pouch. "OK, Wendy, let's go."

As soon as they left, six of the crows swooped in to poke around the oak roots. "You didn't have a buddy back there, did you?" Dipper asked.

"No, I was by myself. But I cast a mirror spell, so they think they still see me back there."

"Good thinking," Wendy said.

"Don't take me back to the castle," the imp said. "They chased me out of the land."

"How about the stone circle?" Wendy asked. "You ought to be safe there."

"You may take me there," the imp said.

"This way, dude," Wendy said. "It's a place called the Enchanted Glade. Real close to unicorn country."

"I hate unicorns," the imp said.

"We're not crazy about them," Dipper said.

"Me and my friends once beat up three unicorns," Wendy said.

"No lie?"

"Straight up, dude. We needed some unicorn hair, and they were holding out on us."

The imp laughed long and loud. It sounded like a chipmunk suffering hysterics. "Ye must be a nymph of the forest, lass!"

"Not me. I'm just an ordinary girl."

"Extraordinary girl," Dipper corrected. They couldn't quite run—the path led through the woods, so they had to duck branches or skirt undergrowth—but they maintained a jog.

"What did you do to piss off the fairies?" asked Wendy.

"Eh, nothing. Stole a wee little something from the Queen. They wanted to behead me."

"OK," Dipper said. "We can drop you off in the Enchanted Glade, but you'll have to be responsible for your own safety with the fairies."

"I'll send 'em back crying to their mothers!"

Dipper said nothing.

The diversion took them an hour. "Yeah," Wendy said. "There's Gnasty's. It's a kinda illegal Gnome tavern. That's where we learned that fairy dust is chloroform for unicorns."

"Unicorns! They're pudenda," the imp said, though not in those exact words.

"Be nice!" Wendy warned.

They reached the stone circle, a little bit like a Stonehenge that had been built by an incompetent contractor with cheap materials. "OK," Dipper said, stopping. "Hey, Wen, untie the bandanna. Be careful. We don't want our friend to fall."

"Friend!" snorted the imp. "Your better, you stupid mortal!"

"Here," Wendy said, lowering the pouch full of angry imp to the grass. "There. Go. Be free. Stay away from crows."

"Chongla!" the tiny thing said as it dropped to the grass.

"What?" Dipper asked.

"I was talking to her, not to you! Chongla. That's my name! Now get out of here. If the Gnomes see me talking to Biggers, they'll never let me forget it!"

"If they rag on you about it, just tell 'em Jeff is our friend," Wendy said. "Come on, dude, let's go."

What with everything, they got back to the Shack late and had to rush through their showers and getting dressed. Stanford had come up to spend some time down in his lab—once again, he was working from home for the Institute, tidying up last-minute correspondence, scheduling, and so on, before the fall term began.

He paused long enough to have a cup of coffee, and Wendy told him about running into the imp.

Ford nearly did a spit-take. "Imp? Describe it!" he said.

Wendy glanced at Dipper, who said, "About this tall. Squatty looking. Kind of a pale green, paler than emerald. Big buggy eyes, pointed ears. Uh, bald, round, head. Hands with a thumb and two hooked fingers, feet with three long toes. It kind of stood on its toes. Uh, wore clothes made of some leaves—"

"Red currant leaves," Wendy said.

"Horns?" Ford asked.

"No, didn't see any," Dipper said.

"Young one, then. Did it curse you?"

"Better not have," Wendy said. "We saved it from a bunch of crows."

Ford put his hand to his forehead, thumb rubbing his right temple, forefinger his left. "You saved an imp from a murder of crows."

"Did we do something wrong?" Dipper asked.

"No, no, it's just that—well, imps are a sub-type of faerie." He pronounced the word so Dipper could actually hear the ae sound. "They are . . . difficult. Temperamental, argumentative, deceptive, amoral. What did you do with it?"

"Took it to the Enchanted Glade and let it go," Wendy said. "It told us the fairies had some grudge against it and wanted to cut off its head."

Ford sighed. "Well, maybe it won't cause any harm. However, if the fairies are angry with the imp, and you took the imp back to what's essentially Faerieland—at least as far as Gravity Falls is concerned—you may incur some resentment among the Fair Folk."

"Yeah, or the Gnomes," Wendy said. "They have a kind of dodgy tavern in the glade, and some rougher types of feral Gnomes hang out there."

"Gnasty's?" Ford asked, sounding surprised. "It's still open? It used to be an extremely questionable place—Shmebulock, Senior, got badly roughed up there once. Of course, that was back when the ferals and the civilized Gnomes were practically in open war against each other. Well—all right, quick notes on imps."

"We probably won't ever see him again," Dipper said.

"It won't hurt to be warned. Imps have weak magical powers—mild illusion spells, confusion spells, things like that. They are amazingly strong for their size. One imp can drag a fully-grown man for a mile or more. Let's see. They are shapeshifters, but with a limited repertoire, and they exhaust their magical powers rapidly. If the one you saw had cast any spells this morning, it would have to rest for a day or two before being able to work magic again. But the worst of them is that they're tricksters. Never trust an imp! They love to cause random mischief, and you can't make friends with them—not even by saving their lives. All right, I know you have to go to work. I think I have a book down in the library that includes information about imps. I'll look for it."

That morning, Soos and Billy again were a team on the Mystery Trail tour. Billy came in after the first trip very, very pleased—because tourists had tipped him! He had three dollars and fifty cents.

Soos grinned. "That's 'cause you're a great conductor, dawg! You guys oughta hear him yell out 'All aboard!' The passengers get a real kick out of it!"

"Did you see any crows?" Wendy asked him.

"Uh—no."

"We did see a deer!" Billy said. He held his hands up to his head, his fingers spread. "It had antlers!"

"Male deer," Wendy told him. "That's called a buck."

Stan immediately loomed up behind her. "Buck? Who's got a buck?"

"Wrong kind, Grunkle Stan!" Dipper said. "Wendy means a guy deer."

"Aw. Hey, Soos, me and Mabel got some errands to run. We're gonna cut out around two o'clock, that's OK with you."

"Uh, sure, I guess," Soos said. "Dipper can handle the Museum tour. If it's real busy, Melody will take the register."

"What are you up to?" Dipper asked his grunkle suspiciously.

"Just some personal business!" Stan insisted. "Don't sweat it."

Maybe it was lucky that business picked up so quickly right after that. Imps, Stan, and Mabel all went right out of Dipper's head—at least for a few hours.


	8. Chapter 8

**X Marks the Day**

**(August 30, 2017)**

* * *

**8: Well Spotted**

Then lunch came.

Crowds of tourists still crammed the gift shop, but Sheila came in to relieve Dipper at one cash register, Ulva was more than capable of policing the aisles to keep them neat, and somehow—none of the tourists could quite understand how—if a bratty pre-teen was playing with merch but obviously didn't intend to buy it, Ulva would go right up to him or her, say in a sweet, cheerful tone, "Don't pick it up unless you plan to buy it," and flash the misbehaving kid a smile.

A . . . smile. That must be the word for it. She showed a _lot _of teeth. Very, um, sharp, white teeth. And something about her eyes . . . um.

In any case, the kid would replace the item, sidle up to his or her mom or dad, and in some cases, would behave perfectly for days. Rarely, for the rest of his or her life. In one or two extreme cases, the kid would creep under the bed and not come out again for a week.

Long story short, Ulva had definite executive potential.

Anyway, lunch time arrived, and Dipper and Wendy took a couple of sandwiches from the snack bar not into the employees' room, but to the dining-room table. Unusually for them, they each had a cup of coffee instead of a soda, just because they both felt the need for a little caffeine boost.

And that was when Wendy, passing the cream across the table to Dipper, laughed and said, "You've got a spot of ketchup on your chin, Dip."

"I didn't put any ketchup on my sandwich," Dipper said, but he tore a sheet of paper towel off—when they were being informal, they didn't bother with real napkins—and wiped his chin. "Did I get it?"

"Wait a sec." Wendy leaned across the table. "Oh, it's not ketchup, man. Just a little zit."

Dipper located it with a forefinger. "Oh, great. And tomorrow's the big day."

"It's not that noticeable," Wendy said. "Got any of the anti-zit goop?"

"No. It hasn't been a problem since I was about fifteen."

"No sweat. When we get off work, we'll run to the drugstore and pick up a tube."

They ate quickly—they only had twenty minutes for lunch—and all that time—well, you know how if you chip a tooth or lose one, your tongue insists on feeling the change over and over and over again, until it just about drives you nuts? That was the spot on his chin for Dipper. Except, fortunately, instead of his tongue, he used the tip of his index finger. But he kept feeling the tiny swollen pimple over and over again.

It didn't hurt. It didn't really feel like a normal pimple, but more like a little grain of sand or something beneath the surface.

And then just as they finished and started to rinse their cups, Dipper said, "Uh-oh. You've got one too, just over your left eyebrow."

They went to the bathroom across from Mabel's room and stood side by side, looking into the mirror. "Man," Wendy said. "Guess I'll need some of the acne stuff, too!"

"I'm not sure this is actually acne," he said.

"Doesn't look like it," Wendy admitted. "More like—nah, couldn't be, I had the measles vaccination years ago."

"Yeah, me, too," Dipper said. He put a hand on her forehead. "I don't think you have a fever, either. Wouldn't you have a fever if this were measles or chicken pox or anything?"

"Pretty sure that's right."

Then back to work. And after half an hour or so, Wendy came up to the counter and said, "Dude, bad news, but you've got like three more spots."

"You, too," Dipper said. "Take over the register for me for just a minute?"

"You gonna check in with Ford?" Wendy asked.

"Call him, yes," Dipper said.

He ducked upstairs to do it. Grunkle Ford answered right away: "Stanford Pines here."

"Grunkle Ford," said Harry, "assuming an imp wanted to curse someone—"

"What's happened?" Ford asked, sounding alarmed.

"Wendy and I are breaking out in zits," Dipper said. "They're not normal-looking."

For a few seconds, Ford was silent. Then he said, "And tomorrow is your wedding day, and there'll be photos and—possibly this could be caused by a curse . . . hmm, yes. Imps don't tend to be terribly destructive, but really, really annoying. I'll be right up. Ah—could you keep people away from the vending machine for about two or three minutes?"

Dipper enlisted Grunkle Stan, who went into the gift shop and bawled out, "Attention, please! In one minute, we're gonna attempt to open the famous Invisible Wizard closet, as seen on the Ghost Harassers internet thing! Absolutely free! Anybody who wants a chance of seeing an Invisible Wizard, come this way right now!"

It worked. Within a few seconds, everyone had shuffled into the Museum, where they would see not the true Invisible Wizard closet—that was up in the attic bedroom—but a former broom closet that Soos had tricked out to look like the one shown on the show.

It contained some weird-looking clothes on hangers—ragged gray robes, a pointy hat (hand-made by Mabel, with the initials I.W. embroidered on it), and filmy strips of gauze that fluttered because Soos had put a small AC vent straight overhead. A dim, flickering blue bulb made everything look faintly fluorescent. It was just ordinary stuff, but the effect impressed tourists who expected . . . something.

Astonishingly, all that worked. When Soos or Stan held the door open and the clothes stirred in a strange way in the uncertain, eerie light, people took photos and pointed and conversed in hushed whispers.

And when Soos or Stan yelled, "I think I see it!" people would yip or outright cream, and they would go home with a great story—"You know that Ghost Harassers show? I saw the real place where there's an invisible wizard, and I didn't see it with my own eyes!"

Anyway, Dipper opened the secret door, Ford stepped out, and then Ford drove them over to the clinic—really a very compact hospital, with six rooms where twelve people could, if necessary, be hospitalized overnight, though normally, fewer than five would be up there. The compact hospital was in an old mansion and was basically Stanley's and Stanford's gift to the town.

Dr. le Fievre wasn't busy, and he checked them both out. "Your temps are normal," he said, "and I agree with you, this isn't ordinary acne. I think we can rule out the usual suspects—not measles or rubella, not chickenpox, not rosacea or even smallpox, not contact dermatitis or allergic dermatitis, not even mosquito bites. It's not even Gnome pepper disease, but humans are immune to that, anyway—"

"You treat Gnomes?" Ford asked, sounding surprised.

Dr. le Fievre chuckled. "I treat everybody! Gnomes tend to pay in mushrooms, though. Anyway, in my professional opinion, you two have been hexed."

"Oh great!" Dipper said. By then he and Wendy looked as if they had been flicked with speckles of red paint.

"Dr. P," Wendy said in a menacing voice, "Take us back to the Shack. I got my axe in the trunk of the Green Machine. Dip and me are gonna go to the Enchanted Glade and have a word with that little green squirt."

"When you get it settled," Dr. le Fievre said, "be sure to come in and tell me what entity did this to you, just in case it happens to other people later on. And let me know the best treatment. I gather it involves the application of an axe to the source of irritation."

Ford shook hands with the younger man. "You are adapting very well to Gravity Falls, Doctor!"

"Hey, it's a really interesting practice, and I like it better than being an internist in a Portland hospital, Dr. Pines!"

Ford paid the fee, not very large, since no complex tests had been required. Then he drove them back to the Shack, Wendy collected her axe, and he said, "I'll accompany you."

"It's a hike," Dipper cautioned. "It'll take about an hour to get there on foot."

"I've cleared my desk," Ford said. He opened the trunk of his Lincoln and took out a compact quantum destabilizer pistol and tucked it into his waistband. "Let's not initiate violence," he cautioned. "But be prepared, just in case. If it comes to the worst, I'm confident the destabilizer could dematerialize an average imp."

Wendy brandished her axe. "We'll try diplomacy first," she said.

* * *

They managed to hitch a ride on the tram down the Mystery Trail—up front, Billy was even giving the spiel on this ride. "Folks, if you look over to the left, you just might spot a Gnome or two in their natural habitat! They're shy, so don't like yell at them or take flash pictures, dogs!"

"He learned from Soos," Wendy remarked to Dipper.

She, Dipper, and Ford disembarked as the tram stopped outside the animatronic exhibit, and as the tram vanished inside, they headed through the woods.

"I know this territory," Ford said grimly. "We're heading to unicorn territory."

"Yeah, but we won't do the chant and open up the passage," Wendy said.

They pushed through a rough trail and finally emerged near the circle of standing stones. Dipper ran his palm over his face. It felt like the pimples had spread wildly—as Wendy's had, with a heavy rash over her forehead and cheeks.

"Now how do we look for him?" Ford asked.

Wendy pointed her axe at Gnasty's tavern. "We start in there," she said.

* * *

The Gnomes who frequented the tavern had long memories, and Wendy was a memorable girl. The heavyset Gnome behind the bar immediately said, "Hey, hey, we don't want trouble in here!"

Ford, the bulkiest of them, had to stand outside the door. As long as he did, no Gnome was going to come in—or leave, for that matter. Dipper and Wendy had to crouch beneath the low ceiling. About four or five Gnomes sat at tables, looking uneasy. "OK," Dipper said, "let's be quick here. We're looking for a green imp, name of Chongla! You tell us where to find it, we're good, we leave you alone, no harm, no foul!"

Wendy added, "But if you know where the imp is, don't tell us, and we find out you held out on us—" she waved her axe—"we come back and completely redecorate this place!"

Momentarily a silence fell, but the Gnome behind the bar—Gnarly, presumably—broke it with a sigh. "The fairies are after his butt. Gnomes won't touch him, we don't trust imps. Chongla's gone to the only place where the fairies can't follow."

When Dipper and Wendy came out and told Ford what they had learned, he rolled his eyes. "Unicorns!" he growled. "Why did it have to be unicorns?"

But despite his aversion, Ford did the low Druidic chant necessary, and the barrier to the unicorns' habitat materialized. "Let's go," Ford said grimly. 'Don't believe anything a unicorn tells you. They're incredibly evasive and frustrating."

They didn't even bother to remove their shoes. Inside was much larger than outside. Unicorns might not be friendly to humans, but they seemed to be very good at interior decorating. A waterfall, thick growths of gem-like flowers, fluttering butterflies, and even a vivid rainbow filled the space with color.

"Yo!" Wendy yelled. "Unicorn dudes! Come out and talk to us and there won't be trouble!"

When no one responded, Ford yelled, "You may remember me! If you don't come out and talk, there'll be plenty of trouble!"

"OK, OK," said a resigned male voice, and an electric-blue unicorn with a silvery mane emerged from the undergrowth, head low to the ground, looking like an extra-large guilty puppy.

"Well, hi there, Airgead!" Wendy said with a fierce grin. "How's the jaw?"

"Healed," the unicorn muttered.

"I punched him out a long time back," Wendy confided to Dipper.

"Look," Dipper said, "we're not here to fight. We've got word that you guys are sheltering an imp named Chongla."

"I knew he'd be trouble," muttered Airgead. "Yeah, he came in and begged us to let him stay. Come on, I'll show you where he's hiding."

"Keep the other unicorns away from us," Stanford said.

"Don't worry," Airgead said. "Celestabellebethabelle and the others are afraid of the redmane, and as for the imp—none of us can stand the little dungball."

"I heard that!" screeched a high-pitched voice from a cluster of round stones.

"Chongla!" Wendy said, striding over and kicking some stones away, revealing a crouching, cowering little green figure. "Look at my face, you little creep. When we leave here, one of two things is gonna be true that ain't true now. Either you're gonna lift your curse so Dipper and me will be clear of this rash, or else you're gonna be scattered all over the ground in little green bleeding fragments."

Chongla tried to make a dash for it, but Dipper stepped on—well, say him—and held him down, wriggling like a pinned-down, angry frog.

Wendy shook her head. "Bad idea to try and run. OK, two things, remember. Your choice, man," she purred, letting the light glint on the edge of her supernaturally-charged axe. "Let's talk."

* * *

To be continued


	9. Chapter 9

**X Marks the Day**

**(August 30, 2017)**

* * *

**9: Implications**

"We can always turn you over to the Faerie Queen," Ford said after the imp, squirming, muttering what might have been pleas or curses, and several times trying to escape, had finally gone limp in Wendy's grasp.

Holding it by the head—it didn't seem to bother the little creature—she brought the keen, bright edge of her axe right up to its nose. "We can turn you over in one or two pieces," she said. "I don't think the queen would mind."

"I'll hit ye with a blast of magic that—"

"No you won't," Ford said. "The Unicorn Circle cancels out any other creature's spoken curses or spells."

"Interesting," Dipper said. So that was why unicorn hair was so important in creating a protective circle.

The imp continued to squirm and shoot furious looks at the humans. It had been a trying quarter of an hour. Both Dipper's face and Wendy's now were covered thickly with red pimples. They were hardly recognizable—faces like the inside of pomegranates, almost. Zits on everything including eyelids and earlobes.

Ford sighed. "I dislike this kind of violence, but the imp is leaving no alternative. All right, Wendy," he said. "You hang onto Chongla here. I'll step outside the circle and summon some of the Faeries and they'll take this evil creature off our hands."

"And if it tries to escape while you're away—" Wendy said.

"Your axe is paranormal. Its kind of magic isn't negated by the Unicorn Circle. Do what you have to do."

"I'll curse ye!" Chongla screamed at Ford.

Ford gave him the kind of smile that Dipper would have sworn his absent-minded, scholarly grunkle was not capable of—it was hard and cold and full of menace. "I think not," he said. "That won't be possible, because I know your true name—_Chongla an Bréagach_!"

The imp jerked as if touched with a live wire, and it screeched so loud that Dipper winced. "All right, all right, all right!" it squealed. "Don't go to the _soith na sidhe! _I'll cure the Biggers, I'll take off the curse!"

"Let's be certain of this," Ford said. He rattled off something in a complex language that Dipper didn't understand.

The green creature's expression became sick. OK, it was green already, but it became sicker than green. Ultra-green.

Ford barked out an angry question: "_An bhfuil déileáil againn, Chongla an Bréagach_?"

The imp all but spat out a snarling reply: "_Tá, damnaigh é, tá!"_

Ford switched back to English. "Then swear the unbreakable oath that you'll raise the curse and never bother these or any humans again," Ford said. "Remember, I know the words of the oath! No tricks—speak slowly and clearly and seal it all with your true name."

As Wendy held him, the imp angrily—but slowly and distinctly—spoke a long paragraph in the strange language and wound up with, "_Mar sin mhionnaím, dom, Chongla an Bréagach_."

"Then let's step out of the Unicorn Circle, and you will fulfill your oath," Ford said. "You know what will happen if you fail in any detail."

They left—Wendy observing, "Nice that we didn't have to take off our shoes"—and lingered near the entrance to the unicorns' territory. Down near their feet, the imp stamped about, waving its arms, and pronounced a complicated chant. Green steam rose from it, and it shrank visibly. Then it staggered, obviously weak to the point of collapse. "It's done," the creature squeaked. "Now be true to your word and let me flee."

"One thing," Wendy said. "If you've played any trick, we'll hunt you down. We know your true name, too!"

"I swore the oath. One trick, and I'd steam away to nothing," the surly creature said.

"Then run, and next time anybody does you a favor, don't pay it back by cursing them," Ford said.

The imp scurried through the gateway—and the barrier that enclosed the Unicorn Circle sank into the earth and the glade felt weird again, which meant it was back to normal. "Let's get out of here," Ford said.

* * *

Maybe it's worth noting, maybe it's worth nothing, but the imp, angry beyond expression and yet frustrated because of the oath it had sworn and which it could not break, tried for its one sanctuary again but immediately was so unpleasant to the unicorns that they tossed it out within minutes of the humans' departing.

The Gnomes in Gnarly's refused to accept or shelter the imp. It went raging toward the forest that surrounded the Enchanted Glade, having to take its chance in the mundane world of hungry crows.

However . . . a couple of winged humanoid creatures somewhat larger than it was suddenly fluttered down and barred its way.

"We heard you, imp," one said pleasantly, but with a grin that promised severed limbs and worse.

The other one, just as pleasantly, asked, "So the Queen of the Faeries is a bitch, is she?"

Chongla had exhausted almost all of its, well, call it _mana_, its magical energy. Ordinarily it could rest for a week and regain it, but now—facing Fairy justice—it summoned up that last little bit and escaped the only way it could. When the magic was absolutely used up—well, that was it for an imp. It cursed not the fairies, which would have no effect, nor the Gnomes or Unicorns—that would only annoy them—but instead, it cursed itself.

And with its magic gone, the imp exploded in a burst of green vapor, which drifted away, thinning to nothing.

And that was the end of Chongla.

The fairies, who despite their appealing physical appearance, are inwardly nasty and spiteful little creatures, were disappointed. However, the mere thought that they had frightened the imp into disincarnating was a good joke and made the Queen laugh. Sad epitaph, but the only one Chongla received.

The moral of the story is, perhaps, don't mess with imps. If you see a crow trying to eat one, help out. Catch it and feed it to the crow.

* * *

When Wendy, Dipper, and Ford got back to the Shack, the clock had already ticked off six and then some, and the tourists had gone. Wendy and Dipper sat on the sofa on the porch and stared at each other's face. "It's not as red," Dipper said.

"Yours looks better, too," Wendy said. "I hope this is gone by tomorrow."

"We'll have to call off the wedding if it doesn't fade," Dipper said.

Wendy grinned. "No way. We're gonna take each other for better or worse, for bumpy or smooth, man!" She caressed his cheek, then blinked. "Whoa! I just, like, wiped away half of your zits."

"Let me try." Dipper held both her cheeks in his hands. He didn't really feel anything—no tingling, no sense of warmth, just her cheeks soft against his palms. But when he moved his hands—"Yeah! Your cheeks are smooth again!"

"Little green jerk should've told us what we needed to do," Wendy said. "Let me fix your forehead and nose and chin."

They mutually gave each other an anti-paranormal acne treatment. Dipper had to smile. "If Mabel were home to see us doing this, we'd never live it down."

"Yeah, she'd be all like, 'You guys are doing foreplay wrong!'" Wendy said.

—_I think she'd be mistaken, Magic Girl. Just touching your face is exciting._

_Know what you mean, Dip. I feel it, too. Hey, are my freckles going?_

—_Nope. Just the zits. Your freckles are safe._

_Well, damn!_

—_Don't say that. I love your freckles._

_You're so romantic._

Inevitably, as their skin cleared, they started to kiss. And decided they needed either to break it up and go inside or else find a more isolated place, away from possible discovery.

With an extreme exercise of willpower, they chose to go inside. Soos told them that Melody had taken the kids and Billy to the playground—"They should be back any time, dudes"—and that Abuelita had dinner almost ready.

Teek had gone home to pack for his flight to Atlanta the following Saturday. Mabel and Stan were off somewhere and would eat at a restaurant.

"Wonder what those two are up to?" Wendy asked.

"No telling. I'll bet it's a reception or some deal. Tomorrow's the big day, and Mabel's been grumbling that she didn't get to plan the wedding."

"Yeah, I'll bet that's it," Wendy said. "Well—if we have to. Our appointment's at ten, right?"

"Ten, in the courthouse." Dipper held her hand. —_We never talked about this, but what should I wear?_

_I'm not gonna dress up. Just slacks and a shirt. The only people there will know us, and I'd feel like we were just, you know, showing off if we got all fancied up._

—_You know what? For the church service in December, let's do the showy wedding, with a beautiful white gown for you and a good suit for me and all. But for tomorrow—don't laugh—I'd like to see you in boots and jeans and flannel shirt._

_Really Dip? Deal—if you'll wear shorts and sneakers and a red tee shirt and your vest and cap._

—_I like the idea. We'll get married the way we looked when I first fell in love with you._

_That was like the first time you saw me, dude! But yeah, I really it too. For old time's sake._

—_For all the adventures we've been through._

_And all the good times ahead, man!_

It was strange. Their complexions were clear and smooth—"Like I've had an amazing facial," Wendy said when she looked in the mirror—but as they held hands and gazed at each other, somehow, and it wasn't bad, in fact it was kind of wonderful—

Their faces glowed with love.


	10. Chapter 10

**X Marks the Day**

**(August 31, 2017)**

* * *

**10: Everything's Different Now**

Four in the morning, and Dipper woke up abruptly, going straight from deep sleep to full consciousness with no transition. He got up and dressed in the clothes he had dropped to the floor the previous evening.

Much to his surprise, when he went out to the bathroom, there sat Mabel on the top step. "Happy birthday, Broseph!" she said, but softly.

"You too," he said. "Just a sec." He visited the bathroom, and when he came out—there sat Wendy, together with Mabel. "Happy birthday, Dip!" the redhead said.

"Thanks. Why are you up so early?"

"It's the day that Billy gets that little part of Bill, right?" Mabel asked. "We're here for moral support. Also, Wendy has her axe, just in case."

"Well—I think we've got like an hour," Dipper said. "It's supposed to happen a little after five A.M. Let's go downstairs."

They went to the kitchen. Tripper stood there, wagging his tail and obviously ready for some breakfast treats. "Uh-uh," Mabel told him. "No way. You have to wait until your normal feeding time. Look at the clock." She walked to point up at the owl clock, whose eyes moved back and forth as the seconds ticked by. "See this? When these things are straight up and down, the little one on the VI and the long one on the XII, that's breakfast time."

Tripper seemed to understand. He sat patiently, head way back, staring up at the clock. His tail wagged in time to the owl's tail, which served as the pendulum.

Wendy measured out coffee into the Caffeinator machine and poured in a carafe of water. "There we go. When did you get in, Mabel?"

"Little past ten." She sighed and sat at the table. "I face-timed Teek. I'm gonna miss him so much. Soos says we can both have tomorrow off, and we're gonna spend it together."

"It's hard, being apart," Wendy said. "But if what you and your guy have is the real thing, it's not gonna affect how you feel about each other. Take it from me—Dip and I have been through it."

"Yeah, I'm jealous of what you two have," Mabel said. "But I gotta deal with it. Anyway, both of us have all Thanksgiving week off from school, and he's coming back home, so we have that to look forward to."

The coffee maker dinged, and Dipper tot up and took three Mystery Shack mugs down from the shelf. He poured, put the cups on the table, and then set down the sugar bowl, cream pitcher, and three teaspoons. Mabel said, "Thanks, Brobro."

They all fixed their coffees the way they liked—just a little cream for Wendy and Dipper, a good glug of it, plus three spoons of sugar for Mabel—and after a sip, Mabel asked, "What kind of coffee is this? It's better than usual."

"Yeah," Dipper said, "this is Colombian Supremo. Wendy and I bought some from a place in Portland."

"Let's have this in the college house," Mabel said. "It'll be great to wake up to this."

"It's pricey," Wendy said. Then she shrugged. "Eh, I guess we're worth it."

"Let's do it!" Mabel said.

"So where did you and Grunkle Stan go yesterday?" Dipper asked.

"It's a surprise," Mabel said smugly.

For a long time they sat at the table, having coffee, and—well, it was a big day, and things were going to change in a few hours—they reminisced. A lot of "Remember that time when we went trick-or-treating?" and "Hey, dude, the first time we went into the bunker, and I climbed that fake metal tree?"

Dipper and Mabel even talked about the time when their feelings about each other bottomed out—that time when Mabel thought none of her friends would be there for their thirteenth birthday, when Dipper, fueled by adrenaline and adventure, agreed to stay behind in Gravity Falls to be Ford's apprentice, when all of a sudden the world seemed to be ending. "I shouldn't have listened to Blendin Blandin," Mabel muttered.

"You didn't know," Dipper said. "Anyway, you're the one who busted the bubble and got us out of—"

A short, sharp yip from Tripper interrupted him. The dog was pointing—the way hunting dogs point—up at the clock on the wall.

"No, no," Mabel said. "That says five o'clock, not six! You have to wait."

Tripper settled down with a protesting whine.

"Five," Dipper said. "I'd better go up."

Mabel and Wendy stood, and Wendy said, "Not alone."

"It might be dangerous," Dipper warned.

"Meh, it's been dangerous before," Mabel said.

Wendy smiled. "Bring it on."

Billy opened the door as they went upstairs. He had dressed. "It's time, isn't it?" he asked, his voice shaky.

"Just about," Dipper said.

Mabel hugged Billy. "We won't leave you alone," she said. "Be brave."

Billy nodded.

Dipper had no idea what would happen. But just in case, he and Billy sat on the floor, facing each other. That way, if one or both of them passed out—well, it wouldn't be much of a fall.

Wendy and Mabel sat near them.

"What do you have to do, Brobro?" Mabel asked. "Is there a chant or a spell?"

"I think we just wait," Dipper said.

Billy swallowed hard. "What's it feel like?" he asked.

Dipper answered him seriously: "If it's the same with you as it is with me, you won't even feel it once it happens. You won't notice anything different." He didn't add that as the small remaining bit of Bill Cipher fully, gradually, merged with Billy, he might experience more than just an intellectual awareness that Bill was there. That was Billy's journey, not his.

Billy bit his lip. "Um—Dipper? We'll, I mean, you and me and Mabel, uh—"

Mabel put her hand on his shoulder. "We'll still be friends after," she said. "That's a Mabel promise."

Billy managed a smile. "Thanks."

They waited.

Dipper had intended to note the time, but he forgot. Anyway, it wasn't yet five-thirty when he felt an inward jolt—no pain, just a sort of whole-body hiccup—and he heard Mabel yell, "Whoa!"

For a moment everything was dark and quiet, as if he'd been knocked unconscious. But only for a moment. Then he was aware of Wendy sitting and holding him. "You with us, Dipper?" she asked.

"Y-yeah. Billy?"

"He just spoke to me," Mabel said. "He's coming around."

"What happened?" Dipper asked. "I heard Mabel—"

"Dude, there was like this blue spark—"

"Real bright," Mabel clarified.

Wendy said, "Bright blue electric-like spark, and it zapped from your forehead straight to Billy's, and then you both just sort of crumpled—"

"Have I been asleep?" Billy muttered.

"Just for like three seconds," Mabel said. "How do you feel?"

"Uh . . . OK." Billy looked at Dipper, his eye bright blue. "No . . . different. No different!"

"Same here," Dipper said.

_No different at all. That's . . . I don't know. A relief? A let-down?_

Then, seized with a sudden kind of panic, he grabbed Wendy's hand. —_Wendy! Is our telepathy still—_

_Loud and clear, Dipper. Bill Cipher didn't give this to us. You reading me?_

—_I love you so much._

_Yeah? Well, soon as we get to our house, you can show me how much._

Billy got to his feet, and Mabel asked, "How do you feel?"

"Same as always," Billy said. He paused, considering. "I don't know. Maybe . . . Can I kiss you on the cheek?"

"Sure," Mabel said, leaning down so he could.

He gave her a little smooch. "I'm gonna ask China if I can do that the next time I see her."

Mabel nodded, smiling. "OK, first kisses are fun and exciting, but don't get carried away and start fooling around. She gave him a mischievous wink. "You guys are just twelve. Wait a few years! And by the way—happy birthday, Billy!"

He blinked. "I forgot! Happy birthday to you guys, too!"

"Now," Mabel said, "Let's go downstairs. It's early—but let's go see if there's cake for breakfast!"

The two of them went downstairs, leaving Wendy and Dipper lingering behind. Wendy asked, "Straight up, Dip, do you feel OK?"

"I feel fine," he said. "I think—I think I feel a little better, even. I've been worrying so long about what was going to happen, and it wasn't bad at all." He kissed Wendy. "OK, I'm gonna say it. I love you—Red!"

Wendy had been tense, too, but she let it out in a laugh. "You can call me that only in intimate moments," she warned. "And only if you don't mind me calling you Pine Tree!"

"Hmm. Well, in that case, let's rethink that," Dipper said, taking her hand. And, hand in hand, they went downstairs to set off on their wedding day.

* * *

The End


End file.
